


we will carve a home out of the hollow in your chest

by Rinusagitora



Category: Bleach
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Other, Polyamory, Post TYBW, mentioned AiHina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10015568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinusagitora/pseuds/Rinusagitora
Summary: The war is over, and the losses are permanent, but they know how to manage.





	1. seeing you feels like I've lost my lungs too

It was true the universe, or whatever power mastered destiny, gave her a bad hand with Sousuke and those fifteen years of Hell she spent with him. It was enough to put wrinkles across her face and tint her honey skin some ugly grey, it was enough to ruin her once lilted voice, it was enough to weigh down her limbs.  


But this was enough to put an extra century or so on anybody’s face. It was more than what was called for with what she had already suffered.

She was okay though. She, Momo Hinamori, knew how to manage when every part of her ached. She dared argue that it was when she was most productive-- anything and everything that kept her mind off her heartbreak, her grief, her horror, her self-loathe. Even the mass destruction the Quincies caused rolled off her back and she took it in stride so long as she didn’t dwell on the amount of tally marks on her sheet. Not even the smell of burnt fat and gore really affected her.

Nanao’s hand clasped her shoulder as they watched other officers heave yet another charred husk onto the cart. Her friend had tied a wet rag around her face as if it would smother the fetid air, but she wondered, as she watched Nanao’s eyes shine, if it was partly to catch her tears. Nanao’s coldness was bravado. Was she put in the field, it took every fiber of her self-discipline to hold herself together. She wasn’t seasoned to battle, or it consequences, like their coworkers.

“Rest,” Nanao’s voice was almost lost in her rag, but it would’ve been easy to guess what her friend would’ve said regardless if she could’ve heard it or not. “You’ve been up even longer than our captains. You’re useless if you collapse.”

The concern in her voice betrayed her intentions, but Nanao was smart and knew what buttons to push to get people to do what she wanted. She was almost as good as Sousuke in that way.

She wordlessly handed over her clipboard and made her way through the debris. She wondered if she had stayed up long enough she wouldn’t toss and turn for hours until she actually fell asleep, she wondered if she was exhausted enough she wouldn’t remember her nightmares. They plagued her even worse at that time than even just after Aizen stabbed her.

The tents were a virtual city that had sprung up in a matter of hours just after word of Juha Bach’s death circulated. They weren’t meant to serve privacy or privilege, only as a center where officers could rest and refuel until they had to return to the mess that lie just outside of it. It was always full and always busy, but the only sounds were that of quiet snores, footfalls, chopsticks against trays, a sob every couple of minutes. It was the place where the massive losses finally sunk in, without any distractions. She hated the place for that reason. It made it even harder to breathe than where the smell of death coated nearly her every orifice.

She laid on a low bunk. She didn’t bother with the blankets because they were well-used and filthy and of no comfort to her. Blackness consumed her as soon as her head hit the pillow. Thank God. She may not able to hold herself together otherwise.

She was a light sleeper when she wasn’t comatose. Bumps, whispers, feather-like touches were enough to rouse her in most cases. It was her excuse why she didn’t sleep for days-- it was impossible for her to wake when she was worked to her very bones, but a relatively sedentary lifestyle, like her work normally was, made it difficult.

That time, it was an argument that woke her.

However much she loved her brother, however glad she was that he was alive, he needed to tone it down if he wanted to keep his vocal cords.

She took her arm off her eyes as she sat up. And then, for the first time since the invasion, tears sprang to her eyes as her gaze laid to rest on a familiar head of blonde hair and the handsome nose that peaked just beyond his bangs.

“Oh my god, _Izuru!_ ”

She didn’t care how many eyes were on her as she raced over to him. All of her boys were alright, all of her boys were home and in one piece. She had kept it together the entire time, she was allowed at least one lapse in her stoicism.

Izuru caught her wrists as she made to hold him. It was then her sight caught it; the mass in the shape of his arm that seemed to absorb every bit of light that hit it, the hole in his side.

Her sobs turned into horrified shrieks. It felt exactly like the first time she discovered the body of a lover, how it felt like it was she pinned up on that wall instead Aizen. It was as if her chest had been blown off too that moment. Her eyes ached, she couldn’t catch her breathe, and then it went as dark as that arm.

She wondered, for half a second, if that entire thing had just been a bad dream. But Izuru was still there, the hole in his chest and his arm still in clear view, and Toushirou called her name as he held her upright with his forearms under her pits. She must’ve been out for only a few seconds….

“I told you this would happen, you fool. I hope this makes you happy.” Izuru growled. She was about to shout his name as her lover turned away, but it died into some pathetic blubber.

“Can you stand?”

Her head whipped to her brother then. She couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts for a moment, and then she finally nodded.

“Kira’s… a lot of things right now.” Toushirou said. “I know you’ll think this is your fault in some way if you haven’t already, but it isn’t. It’s just hard for him for you to see him like this.

Her brother’s reassurances fell onto deaf ears. It felt as if her heart tore from her aorta and sunk into her belly. She couldn’t make herself stop crying, all the pain Izuru must be in whirled in her head. She barely registered when Toushirou shout for everyone to mind their own business.

“Grab grab something to eat and then get back to work.” He told her then. She could do that, the work part at least. She wouldn’t be able to eat so long as she was so emotional. Food didn’t sit well in her stomach was she was like that.

The trip to her captain was a blur, his orders were a blur, all the hours she moved rubble and counted bodies were a blur. She couldn’t even say if Nanao was with her or not. She could only replay that terrible sight over and over.

She was physically removed from that sense after someone grabbed her shoulder.

It was Renji, and Shuuhei was at his flank with trays under his arm. Her clipboard clattered on the ground as she fell into them. She bent them to her level and kissed their faces as they held her. It was hard to hold herself together around her lovers, when they cried together so often, when they made her feel loved and alright after her meltdowns.

“Ise tells us you’ve been out of it all day.” Renji said as he picked her up by the back of her knees. Of course Nanao would tattle. Granted, she wasn’t sure if she entirely blamed her friend, she thought as she laid her cheek on her lover’s temple.

“Izuru’s back and I didn’t take _it_ well.” She sniffed. She knew she would cry again after she checked back into reality, she hated how gross her face was when she cried.

“Neither did I.” Shuuhei said. He, like her, must’ve wailed. People like them just couldn’t catch a break. Their hearts were always an open wound.

She sat between them on a fallen pillar. She laid her head on Shuuhei’s shoulder as he set a tray on her lap. Rice and beans. She would light them a fire and warm her cold feet, but the idea quickly made her sick with the stench of burnt human flesh still so thick.

“Eat, you’re as gaunt as a skeleton.” Renji chided. She lamely touched her food to her lips, but like normal, she simply couldn’t bring herself to have single meals. She couldn’t stomach anything for days or weeks, and then binged when her body finally couldn’t be starved anymore.

Still, she had been in less comfortable circumstances in the past. Little bites, she thought, so her stomach wouldn’t heave. Just to make Renji happy.

“Where’ve you guys been?” She asked.

“Mostly in the west end of the Seireitei with squads seven and thirteen. We’ve been helping with reconstruction since that area’s been cleared.” Shuuhei replied.

“Good. I’m glad we’re getting some of the barracks back. I can’t stand the tents.”

“You’re never so abashed around us.” Shuuhei said with some mild tone of smugness. That tone once made her knees weak and loins hot, but it didn’t seem to do anything to her then. It made her even sadder for some reason. She still hadn’t given them _that._ The thought made her relive every time Aizen fucked it, it brought back the phantoms of his unkind hands.

“I can keep _you_ gentlemen clean.” She snort, as if they all weren’t still covered in welts and grime. “The tents are disgusting. So much filth can’t be good for anyone’s health.”

“It won’t be long. We are prioritizing living quarters, after all, starting with the captains’ quarters and moving down. Everybody’s been starting shit lately because of how packed together we are, so it’ll be good to have real beds to sleep in.” Shuuhei said.

She and Renji hummed

Renji nudged her with his elbow. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Her tears dripped onto her rice. Shuuhei kissed her scalp and combed his fingers through the tresses. It didn’t soothe her heartache like his touch normally could. It couldn’t fill the hole in Izuru’s side, it couldn’t restore his arm, it couldn’t bring back the sheen to his eyes, so of course it couldn’t relief her aches.

Renji sniffed. “Eat,” he told her. “We’ll take this one step at a time. There are other bridges we have to cross before that one.”

Part of her hoped her grief finally suffocated her.


	2. you claim to be dead but I refuse to tally you with the departed

She wasn't like Renji. She couldn't compartmentalize like he could. She could distance herself, distract herself, but the shock had worn off by then. Every bit of rubble she turned over, she feared she would find Izuru, lifeless, that arm contorted in some freakish way. The dread made her nauseous.

She couldn't take anymore bodies. She couldn't distance herself in her worry. Izuru was alive when she thought he was dead, and he was gone because she scared him away. It was almost worse in that way because it was her fault and her fault alone, like the times she turned her sword against her brother and her friends for _that man._

She needed to create, to breathe life into something. But even if there wasn’t any shortage in charcoal, she was without her sketchpad.

Reconstruction wasn't art, but it was better than tally after tally after fucking tally. If she asked, she knew with almost absolute certainty that she could tug at Hirako-taichou’s heartstrings and land herself in the west of the Seireitei for a couple of hours.

Her captain was in a tent with their new Head Captain and Kuchiki-taichou, bent over a map until she entered. Her captain looked so tired. He didn’t walk over her and wrap her in a one-armed hug and he didn’t jostle her with a friendly, confident grin. He didn’t even smile at her, like the bags under his eyes were too heavy for his cheeks to lift. She hated to see someone who had so quickly one a spot in her heart so exhausted.

“If you have a moment, could you reassign me to the west end of the Seireitei? Please? I need a break from all the bodies. Just for this shift….” She pleaded under her breath.

She wasn't met with an immediate yes or no. Hirako-taichou merely looked to Kyouraku-soutaichou, who then looked at a roster.

“I think we can afford an extra man there.” The head captain said. 

“We can't. We need to clean up all of this, account for as many bodies, and then track down and incarcerate any deserters.” Kuchiki-taichou responded.

“We’re spread a little thin, but when aren't we? It'll help us take down some of those tents sooner rather than later at least. It couldn't hurt to switch the poor thing for just one shift, Kuchiki.” Kyouraku-soutaichou said. His calm amazed her-- she always wanted to clock Kuchiki-taichou ever since his cold dismissal of Renji’s life not even two years ago.

Kuchiki-taichou’s lips tightened into a line. It, at least, seemed he wasn’t hot about the tents either.

“Meet up with Iba-fukutaichou, Hinamori-fukutaichou. He’ll delegate you where you're needed.” Hirako-taichou said.

She bowed graciously to them and made herself scarce. She had already thrown a wrench into their carefully balanced schedule, she couldn’t make herself a nuisance on top of it.

Iba-fukutaichou had always been among her favorite lieutenants-- outside of Renji, Shuuhei, and Izuru of course. He had always been more noble than any of the aristocracy, and down to earth and so very sweet. She wasn’t close to him, they had only spoken before lieutenant meetings, but he was good in her book. Not many were anymore. Especially not men.

The west of the Seireitei was different from the rest. The air was much fainter of burnt fat and decay and the walkways were clear if not just slightly crumbled where they hadn’t been repaved. It was a totally different atmosphere on top of it. It felt like she had finally bobbed above the dirty water for a breath of fresh air.

Yes. It wasn’t art, but it was an escape from all her anxiety, that awfulness in the rest of the Seireitei.

Iba-fukutaichou was among his men as they pieced together platforms with smooth slats. He straightened as she approached.

“I was told you could give me something to work on here.” She said. “I would appreciate anything. Really, just put me somewhere. Please.”

“Happy to have you, Hinamori. Just join the rest of us. If you need any help, just shout.” Iba-fukutaichou replied.

“Thank you.” She would’ve asked where Shuuhei and Renji were and if he knew where her dear Izuru had run off to, but she figured they would only be a distraction. Distractions-- _Izuru_ \-- made her sad and they couldn’t afford that then. It was like Renji said-- one step at a time.

She would ignore how it felt like she abandoned her dearly beloved and thank whatever higher power had taken the Soul King’s place that flooring was busy work. It didn’t require quite the amount of attention as her art or reading, but it was nice to busy up her hands with something more visibly productive than tolling bodies. The hours passed just as quickly either way.

Shuuhei described her as beat when he and Renji came to fetch her. He must’ve meant she didn’t look much different than she normally did because sleep eluded her. The noise did not, on the other hand. It was difficult to not listen in on the conversations around her, bored out of her mind and worried out of her hyde. It was still mostly who was still missing, grief over the deceased, cynicism in hushed voices.

She was a terrible leader. If she couldn’t hold herself together, how could her men? They were the gears of the Soul Society. Their leaders were merely the lubricant that kept those gears cool. Without them, the gears would surely be ground away or pop off their spindles.

If she didn’t listen in, she probed for Izuru. Normally, she could pinpoint any of her loved ones’ reiatsu at any time with little trouble. Izuru’s was unusually faint, however. Like he really was gone. But she knew otherwise. Half the Seireitei knew about that scene at the tents, and her brother was there too so it couldn’t have been a hallucination. Izuru sulked somewhere, because she was a terrible excuse of a human being and an even worse lover.

There was a sudden change in the cadence and the speed of the murmurs around, and the sudden silence as she picked up on a pinprick of Izuru’s reiatsu. It felt so distant, but she heard his footfalls. Each was like a kick to her gut. It brought tears to her eyes-- relieved and terrified. She wished his reiatsu was strong enough to tell how he felt-- if he hated her, if he needed her.

Or perhaps it was just a hallucination. Perhaps she had finally been driven undeniably and irreparably mad. Or maybe the entire thing was just a long nightmare, and she would finally wake sandwiched between her boys and they would kiss her at breakfast as she told them about the most horrible dream she had ever had.

She stayed silent. If he wanted her, if he was even real, she figured he would speak. Aizen’s voice never accompanied his phantom presence. The memories of his words, but never his voice.

“... you hold yourself when you’re asleep.” Izuru rasped finally. He sounded winded.

Tears welled in her eyes as she laid sight on him. He was paler, more ragged, with a blanket tied around his shoulders.

“You’re here.” She sighed.

He nodded solemnly. Izuru normally wasn’t one to smile in the first place, but those blue eyes were so emotive. Those same eyes were dull and they were lifeless then, like he belonged on a metal slab and knew it. Her teary stare was no different from the others he must receive.

“Do you not want me to be?” He asked plainly, as if bored.

“I always want your company, you know that.”

“You wanted Izuru Kira’s company. He is dead. I am but a humble war machine in his shape.”

“Don’t you say that.” She quivered. “Don’t you say anything like that again. You are my beloved Izuru. We’ve all been turned into war machines. But it’s over now and we’re going to rebuild our home and our lives, and we want you in that.”

“The man you loved is dead.” Izuru iterated. “He is only a small percentage of my reiatsu. The rest is reiatsu from fallen soldiers mashed into me so I can operate.”

“So?” She sniffed. “You look like my Izuru. You talk like my Izuru. I can still feel my Izuru’s presence. If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck.”

“You’re still as deluded as when Aizen fucked you.”

She flew upright. Her knuckles stung after they connected with his cheek. “How dare you bring that monster up.”

“The man you share all those happy memories with is gone. He died, and he let all of his men die too. Every single one of them.”

“We lost a lot of good men against the Quincies. It’s not your fault.”

“Like Aizen was coerced by Gin?”

Her knuckles stung as she backhanded Izuru again. His expression didn’t change as he stared down the row.

“Have you come to be cruel to me?!” She barked as embarrassed tears streamed down her face. She didn’t turn to Renji or Shuuhei  when they startled awake. “Izuru has always been like that. You’ve been so sarcastic and mean since Ichimaru died. You’re damn right I was loyal to Aizen, and I’m loyal to you now. Did you really think we would cut you out of our lives just because you’re having a tantrum!? You underestimate my tolerance!”

“You’re morbid to love a dead man.” Izuru growled

She slapped him again. “Enough of that! I don’t want to hear anything like that come out of your mouth again.”

Izuru stared off to the side, past the audience they had garnered. He got that thousand-yard stare when he was sad, when he truly debated death. She knew it well. How could he claim to not be Izuru when he was still so much like him?

“And what will you do if I refuse?”

She burst into humorless, bitter laughter. “You expect me to discard you? I couldn’t leave that monster when he raped me nightly, I wouldn’t have left him after he stabbed me! What the fuck makes you think you can make me leave you?”

“... I ought to go.”

“No, you’re staying. I’ll make you. Renji and Shuuhei will hold you down, and we’ll call Kuchiki-taichou in to hold you somewhere.”

He finally looked at her. “You’ll make me stay? Like you made Aizen stay?”

She slapped him once more and wailed. She couldn’t see his gaze through all of her tears, but she could feel it like a drill.

“You and I are taking a walk.” Renji plucked Izuru off the bunk and dragged him out. She couldn’t bring herself to look anyone in the eye as she walked in the opposite direction.

She knew the pain would fade, she thought as Shuuhei laid her head against his chest. She knew they would come together again just like they did after those men exited their lives, she knew her kisses would ease his pain, but Izuru was stubborn and she hurt too much to look at him.

Perhaps she was a fool, she thought, to let Izuru get away with a mere lecture from Renji. Perhaps she hadn’t changed since Aizen. Perhaps she was morbid and sad and needy, but he never seemed to mind it in the past.


	3. there is marriage, a fickle thing, and then there is commitment

Her tears refused to desist, even as she fell into a trance as she tallied body after body. It was most certainly what Nanao’s rag was for, she thought after she tied the musty triangle over her face. Though Nanao grieved their massive losses, she wasn’t quite so selfless. She couldn’t bring herself to care for charred shapes or smears or pincushions or pieces of, she had exhausted all of her care except for but a handful after that man left, and a part of that handful had left her broken-hearted with his self-loathe.

His hurt left a hole in her, the exact mirror of his own.

Izuru had been cruel in the past, like she could be accusatory and like Renji could be cold and like Shuuhei could be passive-aggressive, but Aizen was a taboo subject for them. Aizen wasn’t something to be mentioned unless she brought it up, and he especially hadn’t called her delusional or implied fault on her end in the past.

She replayed it over and over again, she simply couldn’t stop, and it felt like that hole grew each and every time she restarted it. She didn’t wail, but she didn’t cease either. She may dry up at that rate.

Part of her, the part still needy for love, hoped she did.

Hours passed, and then hours more. She was grateful that she was left virtually alone to be lost in her work. The scene she caused in the tents most likely known by most of the Seireitei by then. Those last few days felt like a continuous existence instead of new days. It wasn’t nice to lose herself among the corpses of fallen allies, but it was a distraction. It was all that she could do.

“I hope you just forgot to sign out the last two days.” 

She squawked as her heart launched into her throat. She spun around and nearly slapped her brother, but somehow refrained. “You need to stop sneaking up on people! It’s rude and you know better!” She snapped.

“I didn’t sneak, I’ve been here for the last ten minutes. You just don’t pay attention.” Toushirou told her as he crossed his arms.

“Don’t you have other things to do instead of bug me? Like captain duties?” She scoffed.

“Yes, but I haven’t slept in three days. I know you may think otherwise, but I’m not immortal. And neither are you.” He said. “Truthfully, I’ve come to fetch you since you’re totally incapable of taking care of yourself. Let’s get some food and some rest-- captain’s orders. Yes, _your_ captain’s orders.”

She rolled her eyes as she followed her brother. “I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

“Being able to cook doesn’t count if you hardly eat, and it doesn’t pertain to rest. So I’m more right.”

“You’re obnoxious.” She grumbled.

“Although true, I’m assuming it doesn’t bother you if my teeth are still in my gums.” He said as he looped his arm around her waist.

Part of her missed their banter, she thought as she held Toushirou’s shoulders. She missed the simplicity of the Rukongai, but it was a distant memory and an impossibility to ever attain such purity again. She was too damaged and he was too jaded. But it was nice to be close to her brother again, to be held by his sympathetic grip. He had always taken better care of her than she ever herself, and though part of her hated how dependent she was on other people, she knew he felt guilty that he never say her fifteen years of torment, that he even liked her tormentor. Anything to bring a little comfort to him.

Their arms fell as they approached more populated areas. They were still leaders with images to maintain. Though, it was sparser than normal. It was midshift though, so she guessed most people counted, cleaned, or rebuilt.

She and Toushirou sat on an end table, far from any other activity. They had never been at the center of any group-- he always an outcast, and she too long removed from normal relationships to remember how to mingle with the masses. She had the handful that she needed; Toushirou, Rangiku, Nanao, Hirako, her boys.

Sans Izuru, which made her tears start afresh.

Toushirou certainly heard about the scene she caused at the tents. She wondered if he was there to perform some damage control and provide comfort in his own, awkward way. He never liked her lovers after Aizen, but he understood how much they meant to her. He understood when he boys hurt, she hurt. He understood his meddlesome habits were hurtful, but also that his presence itself soothed her.

“He'll start missing you guys as soon as he's done throwing his tantrum and come back and apologize.” Toushirou assured her. “I just wish he'd do it sometime soon. Outorishibashi hasn't stopped meaning about this since Kurotsuchi de-zombified him.”

“I feel like moaning about it too, so I don't blame him.” She murmured.

“It's not your fault, Hinamori. You didn't blow a hole through him.”  

No, but she had scared him off, twice then. He must feel like an abomination. “I hit him….” She said.

“ _Three times,_ from what I've heard. But I've heard that he deserved it. He's only got one lung now, so what? Taking out his misery on you makes him no better than Aizen.”

Her nostrils flared as she sighed. When would that man finally die in everyone's memory so she could let him die in her heart?

Still, Toushirou was right. Had Izuru really expected them to just not love him anymore because of his body? Had he really thought cruelty would’ve terminated their love when she put up with Aizen’s for years? Had he really thought she would’ve just thrown him aside like a filthy ragdoll like Aizen and Ichimaru and Tousen did to them?

It was just another bump in their relationship and they’d weather it out. She would make sure of that.

“Get some rest, alright?” She told her brother as she stood. She couldn’t eat anymore, though she had only cleaned half of her tray.

“You too, Hinamori.” Toushirou said.

* * *

She, of course, didn’t follow instructions and went right back to work.

At least she didn’t need the rag. She was glad all those tears had been worked out. She hated when she was emotional at work. Technically, she hated her emotions period, but her boys made it easier. When her boys kissed her, when they laid with her and let her play with their hair, it wasn’t as achey because she could feel their love with her misery.

She was suddenly plucked out of the neck-deep rubble she searched through. Shuuhei pecked her on her cheek as he hauled her onto her onto the huge slab held up by rubar and other debris.

“He’s back.” He whispered to her. “He and Renji had a long heart-to-heart the way he and Renji have their heart-to-hearts, and anytime you’re ready to talk, we should do so.”

Shuuhei’s announcement made her heart do some strange up and downs. It terrified her, because she was scared she would do the wrong thing and scare him away again. Part of her wanted to storm over to him and scold her blue-eyed lover for his cruelty to her but she assumed Renji had chewed off his ear enough. She wanted to run back to him and kiss him until he had no choice but to proclaim his love for her.

“I…” she cleared her throat, “it’s hard for me to feel him. Take me to him. Please?”

Shuuhei picked her up by the back of her knees. He was faster than she was, with his long stride and superior hakuda. That was alright, though. She was better in bed and her kidou was nearly unsurpassable by anybody but a handful of other shinigami. Her boys may be better warriors, but she was the best spellcaster.

Izuru and Renji were in a cleared spot. Not of debris, not yet, but of counted and collected bodies which gave them privacy. She felt awful to shirk her duties, but she could make it short and sweet. They had all the time in the world with those bastards finally dead.

Izuru looked down at her. There was that sad gaze, she thought.

“I didn’t mean all those things about… you and that man. I know that doesn’t mean much now, and it doesn’t change that I was in the wrong, but I hope you can forgive me.” Izuru said. There was a lowness in his tone he got when he felt guilty.

She reached to hold his face. She feared he would slink away from her touch, or grab her hands and toss them aside again. But he leaned into her palms like they were his only support. Her shoulders trembled as he sobbed without tears, and he collected her in his arms. Renji and Shuuhei soon followed suit and they held each other.

It was a promise a thing like marriage could never live up to. _We are here for you. We won’t leave you. We love you, thick and thin._


	4. These are trying times but you are worth the heartache

She found it easier to focus after they had sorted that out. Body after body she tallied for two shifts, but time no longer felt like gelatin and she didn’t fear the discovery of Izuru’s corpse under the rubble. She knew it was terrible that she cared so little for the other dead, but they weren’t her loved ones and she only had room in her heart for those few.

The sky cleared with the bodies, and the frames of buildings sprung up like trees. The mass funeral that followed was surreal, but they had grieved so long that it was-- at least for her own officers-- their last goodbye.

Except for Izuru. He stared upon the rows of photos and she swore it was with envy.

The tents were dreadful. So little escape, so little privacy to sort out one’s troubles. She was the resourceful sort though and she made the best of her circumstances.

A collection of blankets, pillows, and a quiet spot on a hillside, and they had the night to themselves.

Izuru was sandwiched between herself and Renji, and she was held by Shuuhei from behind her. How she had missed to be so surrounded by her lovers. However course the blankets were and however flat the pillows, that was the most comfortable she had been in some time.

She laid her cheek on Izuru’s shoulder, the rubbery thing, and sighed. She traced circles on Izuru’s sinewy chest, where she used to place her ear and listen to his heartbeat on her bad days when it was just the two of them.

“Does it ever hurt?” she asked softly. She knew her curiosity would hurt her, but she was awfully curious.

“... no,” Izuru answered. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Do you feel hunger?”

“No,”

“Can you taste? Smell? Et cetera?”

“... it has to be quite potent for me to taste or smell it. I can sense textures though.”

“Hot and cold?”

“Nothing like that anymore.”

“Does… does everything still work?”

She couldn’t tell what Izuru found humorous about that. “No,” he replied. “My blood rushes through me, somehow, it pushes my as I dictate it to. But I’m as good as dead outside of that.”

How empty that must’ve felt-- to be virtually dead but still awake.

“I’m glad you’re still with us. I can’t even begin to conceive what my life would be without you, Izuru,” she told him. “I love you. We love you.”

“... my heart aches when I remember how dead I am,” Izuru confessed. “It leaves me breathless.”

“Does your heart ache when you think about us?”

“Yes and no,” he answered. “Sometimes, when I think how undeserving I am of the three of you. But your love never fails to warm me, no matter how saddened I am.”

She kissed his neck then. “Swear to never leave us?”

Izuru paused, still as death.

“Izuru?” she asked. She wondered if he felt her heart pound against her ribcage, she wondered if he felt her skin flush worriedly.

“I can’t promise that,” he croaked.

“Why not? Are we not enough for you to stay?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say, Momo. I am a dead man. For all I know, this body will shortly wither away. For all I know, if I ever sleep, I may never wake up.”

What a nightmarish image-- that one morning she may roll over onto Izuru to find a fly in his dry eyes and totally unresponsive as she shook him. It made her woozy.

“Won’t you stay with us as long as you can, in that case?” she asked.

Izuru kissed her ever-so softly, with such enamoration it felt almost like their first. “I’ll try.”

Shuuhei hummed, squeezed her, and rubbed his cheek against her hair. Most likely, he had heard their entire exchange-- and Renji too. That was fine by her. It was a conversation they probably all should’ve heard.

* * *

Their barracks were eventually rebuilt. Shuuhei’s was first, they gladly followed him in.

It was wonderful to have a nest again. How she’d itched for Shuuhei’s coffee, for their morning rituals, to wake up between three bodies and surrounded by love, and how she’d itched to return home to the arms of her lovers after her workday.

The mornings she woke up surrounded by only two bodies were the worst mornings.

Izuru was at the table, bent and rest upon his forehead, and four empty vases of sake surrounded his head like a halo.

“Were you drinking all night?” she asked.

“It didn’t do shit, if you’re getting to something along those lines,” Izuru grumbled. 

“I care more about your misery than your drinking,” she replied. “Help me with breakfast. You know moping makes it worse.”

“I don’t care,” he grumbled.

“About me?” she asked. “Do you not care about me anymore? Or Renji or Shuuhei?”

“Don’t twist my words like that, Momo,” Izuru said with an exhausted sigh.

His tone felt a little bit like a knife in her chest. “I’m not twisting your words. One can not care about quite a bit, and you were unspecific,” she said. Manipulative of her, sure, but he had been vague and he knew she took vagueness personally.

“Let me wallow for once, woman,” he grumbled. 

She hated how tears welled in her eyes. Izuru could be so cruel when he was miserable. 

“Fine,” she sniffed as she threw fish from the chill chest onto the counter, “throw a pity party for yourself.”

Izuru sighed moments later. He stood behind her and circled her waist. “I’m sorry, Momo, that out of line. Please forgive me?”

She sniffed again. She ought to apologize for how emotional she was, but she was always scolded when she’d apologized in the past. “Only if I get a kiss,” she said instead.

Izuru’s lips pressed against her neck, tender as cold as they were.

“Can you start the coffee? The infusers are in the second drawer,” she asked.

He wordlessly obeyed. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he prepped beside her. 

Shuuhei emerged some minutes later. “You two are up fuckin’ early. Especially you, Izuru. You sleep as long Renji does sometimes,” he yawned. He kissed her unkempt hair then.

“I’m dead, I don’t need sleep,” Izuru told him.

“... ah,” Shuuhei cleared his throat. “I-is the coffee almost ready? My head’s pounding.”

Izuru hummed affirmative.

“Breakfast is nearly done too. Can you fetch Renji?” she asked.

“I can try. He sleeps like a log. I wonder if he takes sedatives before he goes to sleep….”

“Doubtful. He’s been a deep sleeper since I’ve known him-- the Kuchiki woman tells me the same,” Izuru said.

“Wait, when did you and Kuchiki-san start talking?” Shuuhei responded.

“Before lieutenant gatherings. I think I somehow gave her the impression that I’m the conversational type.” 

“Well, do you humor her?” she asked.

“I remain as terse as possible. Alas, she scares me so I’m afraid to outright tell her I don’t care to make smalltalk,” Izuru confessed.

Shuuhei snort. “I don’t blame you-- she scares me too. Actually, most women here scare me.”

She laughed as she listened to her lovers’ exchange. “Okay, go wake up Renji. I won’t let him miss breakfast.”

“Yes ma’am,” Shuuhei sniffed.

She and Izuru set the table with breakfast and four place settings. They sat beside each other and she dished out her fish and miso.

“I should’ve made mashed potatoes. I’ve been craving calories lately,” she said.

“It’s because you only eat breakfast, and when you do eat more than just breakfast you binge comfort food,” Izuru said as she sipped her warm coffee.

“If you weren’t as guilty, I’d be offended.”

“I can only refer to you fondly, my love.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek.

Shuuhei and Renji emerged then, the latter as if he was weighed down by lead. Poor thing took ages to wake…. But he did, as he always did after a couple of kisses and when Shuuhei sat him in front of breakfast.

Izuru picked at his food like her brother did when he felt unwell. She scoot herself and her meal closer to him, sat herself in his folded legs, and picked at his mangled fish for him.

“Open,” she said to him.

Izuru frowned. “I’m not a child,” he grumbled as she bumped fish against his lip.

“Do it for me, Izuru?”

“I don’t need to eat,” he insisted.

She fetched the hot sauce and generously doused his soup and fish. “Try it now.”

Izuru chewed thoughtfully, and then nodded. “That’s better,” he confessed.

“I can start adjusting my recipes for you accordingly. It might take some experimentation before it’s any good, though,” she replied. She kissed him once more before she slid off of him.

They had been through so much together, taken so many blows and survived. It was nearly impossibly for her to picture them separated in any shape or form. And she knew, no matter what, after everything they had survived, any other accommodations that were required for Izuru were elementary.


End file.
